It Gets Your Body Moving
by lazymemories
Summary: Leaving is a catalyst. In a world where change can be just as harrowing as the implications of certain death, Daryl and Beth find themselves developing an unexpected and seemingly inevitable bond in which neither can fully understand.
1. Chapter 1

There'd been a moment between the transition that Beth hadn't thought much of until now. A year ago, she would have laughed at the notion that _leaving a prison _would bring tears to her eyes. That actually parting ways with uncomfortable cots in too-small cages and cold, colorless walls would make her more nervous than staying. Then again, she would've laughed at a lot of things a year ago.

But they had to make a decision. Give up the prison – a place the group had once so confidently – fool heartedly – believed they could finally begin to heal, together; or stay put. Risk the strain of persistent fear induced by the possibility of a future attack. It wasn't easy.

Leaving never was.

No one knew where the Governor was now. Or how many freshly minted followers he had scrounged up in fifty-three days' time. For all they knew, he could have built himself an army just as easily as he could've already been turned.

Whatever the decision, it was a gamble. And Rick was not a gambling man. Not after Lori.

"We can't stay here forever," Maggie said, cutting through the silence of the prison. Her tone was red, voice dripping with bitterness that the matter of the move hadn't been settled yet. "Not movin' on isn't an option anymore. We're just bidin' our time 'til he decides to strike again, stickin' around like chickens waitin' for the slaughter."

Hershel placed a comforting hand on Maggie's shoulder, locking wary eyes with Glenn at her side.

"And I understand that. Believe me, I do."

Rick was tired, perched on the second step of the staircase. Head supported only by the fist that never seemed to leave the hollow of his cheek these days. His cheekbones looked more pronounced than Beth remembered. Once, she would have hoped that it was just the way his hand was positioned against his face, just his knuckles causing soft flesh to valley out…

But even Beth had come to understand the hand-in-hand nature of innocence and denial in this world.

That realization had happened about the same time Carl put a bullet in his mother.

"With the size of the group we have now, moving's going to be a lot harder than just pickin' up and taking off. It's gonna take preparation. Time."

Beth watched Rick closely. These days, she was paying more mind to his health than her own fathers; but somewhere on their journey together, they had all become her family. It didn't feel moral to only care for blood anymore. Not everyone had that privilege.

And right now, Rick was the one she feared for the most. His mind had been poisoned by obligation just as much as grief; obligation to the group, to Carl, to Judith. He was spread thin, and it became more apparent each passing day. She suspected everyone felt the same sense of protectiveness over one another. It was impossible not to observe and grow concerned when someone was becoming as broken as Rick. He was the patriarch of their make-shift family, and it was worrisome to all that his leadership might best be put on pause until he got himself right again.

Beth could see her concern mirrored in the way Carol's gaze would follow Rick whenever he entered the room.

They'd discussed it quietly together over dishes one evening not too long ago.

...

"His eyes used to dance, you know," Carol noted, smirking shyly, musing more to herself than to Beth. Her hands were soapy, busy rinsing and cleaning any remaining residue from the unimpressive dinner of canned black beans and creamed corn they had prepared at sundown. "Rick. Back when we were all together, at your farm and before. Back when Lori was still…"

"I know." Beth said quietly. She paused drying the thin metal plate in her hand, placing it on the counter-top.

"Loss will do that, though. Take away your light." Carol looked at Beth, voice thick with emotion. She smiled through her tears. "Take away your hope."

She was thinking of Sophia. Beth placed her hand on Carol's, softly, trying to convey her compassion and admiration for the older woman. Beth had her own tales of loss, but losing a child was something different entirely. She remembered the way her daddy had grown inward after her brother turned. Could recall in vivid detail the way he'd searched the house in some kind of heartbroken fervor for liquor, quietly and angrily revisiting old hiding places in the dead of the night when he thought no one was watching.

Carol laughed a little, wiping away her tears with her shoulder. She removed her hand from beneath Beth's and cupped the young girl's cheek. A small line of soap bubbles marked a path across her jaw.

Beth's eyes teared up at the motherly gesture. She wasn't used to that kind of touch; wasn't used to the feeling of maternal affection.

"My god, honey…"

Beth looked down, averting her gaze. Carol tilted her head up with a finger at her chin, looking into Beth's eyes, searching.

"You're just so young."

Beth imagined that this was the way Carol might have looked at Sophia so long ago. After making her breakfast, or picking her up from school. After reading a bedtime story and watching her fall soundly into slumber.

Beth bit back the sadness of her thoughts, feeling the familiar burn of tears skirting beneath her eyelids. She searched her mind for happier things. How her daddy was still alive. How lucky they were to care for one another so. How wonderful and easy a baby Judith was. How content and loved Glenn made Maggie feel.

How she longed to feel that, too.

Inexplicably, Beth thought of Daryl.

"And look at that," Carol said, tenderly. "Your eyes still dance."

The older woman laughed a little as Beth tensed, removing her hand. Beth turned away from Carol, looking back just once to quickly scan Carol's features for any semblance of recognition of her thoughts; what it was that made her eyes come alive. Beth felt a tight knot in her stomach beginning to coil.

"Don't ever let that go," Carol said kindly, oblivious to Beth's growing discomfort. "Hold onto whatever it is that makes you trust – whatever gives you courage." Carol plunged her hands back into the warm, soapy water, pulling a plate out of the murkiness to give to Beth to dry.

"It doesn't come easy in this world."

Beth nodded slowly. She and Carol finished the remainder of the dishes in comfortable silence, both lost in their own respective thoughts.

...

By the time Beth had found her way out of the kitchen, offering to stay behind and finish cleaning the counters and sweeping the floor while Carol looked after Judith, the prison had grown near black in the cloak of night. She made her way to her cell quietly, tip-toeing down the darkened vestibule of cells and up the stairs to where she and Judith called home.

Turning into the cell, Beth wasn't surprised to find Judith sleeping soundly.

She was surprised, however, to find Daryl doing the same. Beth awkwardly shifted at the entrance of her room. He must have offered to take over for Carol. Beth smiled to herself.

He was good like that.

Beth hesitantly entered the cell, stepping gingerly, barely breathing above a whisper so as not to wake Daryl or Lil' Asskicker. Sitting at the edge of the bottom bunk's mattress, she took in Daryl's appearance as he slept. It was a stark contrast to the guarded cover he wore so effortlessly when awake.

Asleep, he looked just like a child.

Overcome with tenderness and some residual affection brought on by Carol's earlier motherly touch, Beth leaned in closer, propping herself up on her elbow. She drew in her breath and moved to push the hair back from Daryl's childlike face. Her fingers brushed through his soft curls and she let the breath out that she had been holding.

A subtle, low whimper escaped his lips.

Daryl opened his eyes and was moving before she could disengage. Calloused fingers wrapped around her throat, his whole body shifting towards her in a forceful and defensive manner.

Beth let herself feel fear for exactly three seconds.

...

Daryl had been on watch for some time before he came in. It was getting dark and he was more than grateful that his shift had finally come to an end. Being in those watch towers in the daytime had been hard enough, but it was the night that always drew out the darkness in his mind.

At night, he had nothing to distract him from thinking about Merle. Nothing to keep him from revisiting the sickening crunch of his brother's softened skull that echoed in his brain. The sound of moaning walkers in the distance was enough to get Daryl's conscience kicking away at his gut, a perpetual confirmation of the one feeling that would inevitably arise and was not to be easily tucked away.

_Guilt_.

Sleep had been getting harder and harder for him to come by lately, evading him like Merle would evade the cops whenever he was busted for possession or assault. He neared Beth and Lil' Asskicker's cell on the way to his own, glancing inside out of habit.

Sitting on the floor, Carol's head leaned back against the soft mattress of the cell's bottom bunk. A soft snore came from her open mouth, and Daryl couldn't help but smirk at the sight. He checked on Lil' Asskicker before kneeling in front of Carol. He shook her shoulders a little harder than he had intended until her head popped forward, eyes glazed over with slumber.

"Get up 'n go to your cell. You're snorin'."

Carol inhaled sharply, feigning offense.

"I don't snore," Carol protested weakly, sleep clinging to her.

"Coulda fooled me. Damn near woke Lil' Asskicker with the racket you were makin'." Daryl teased quietly. Sometimes he couldn't help himself with Carol.

Merle never would have let him get away with it.

"Go on," Daryl urged curtly. "I'll watch 'er."

"Alright," Carol agreed, rubbing her eyes and nodding. She hoisted herself up onto her feet. "Just stay here 'til Beth gets back. She shouldn't be too long now."

A sound pang of irritation coursed through Daryl.

It didn't sit well knowing that Beth was left behind. Especially in the dim recesses of the prison, barely any light marking the facility. What if something happened? If the girl couldn't fight to save her life when the sun was spilling bright all over – she'd be a damned guaranteed meal for walkers now.

"You left her alone down there?" He tried not to sound bothered, using his best and most measured tone. Still, Carol knew better, eyeing him subtly.

"No threat surrounding the kitchen anymore. Remember?" Carol turned back, an audible smirk tilting her voice playfully. "Besides, Beth's a big girl. She can handle herself _just fine_."

He scowled. Carol smiled sweetly, clearly pleased with herself that she could get him back for his teasing.

"G'night, Daryl."

Daryl narrowed his gaze. That sing-song crap didn't bode well with him one bit.

...

He'd fallen asleep only minutes after Carol had left. Perched on the bunk watching over Judith, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy from the exhaustion of so many sleepless nights; could feel his muscles begin to relax beneath his skin. Physiologically, his body understood that rest was on the way, and welcomed respite with gratitude.

It didn't feel right thinking of his brother, not with Lil' Asskicker's soft breathing at his side the only sound to accompany his thoughts. Daryl moved himself down the bed, taking the pillow he'd carelessly thrown against the wall moments before and mildly propping it beneath his head.

A delicate, distinctly feminine perfume clouded Daryl's mind. He closed his eyes, half-consciously breathing the fragrance into his lungs.

By some miracle, something about that cell eased his mind – some hazy calmness permeating the still and quiet space of Beth's room – allowing him forget about Merle long enough to fall deeply into sleep.

He felt safe. Peaceful.

Until he didn't.

...

"Daryl."

Beth wrapped her fingers around Daryl's wrist firmly. The first thing he registered was the heat that filled his palm.

"Daryl, it's me."

His eyes began to clear, fingers still pressing possessively into the flesh of Beth's delicate ivory throat. Her pulse jumped beneath the rough pad of his thumb, and in his slumber-fazed fatigue Daryl momentarily considered it to be a strange and natural feeling that the telltale sign of this living, breathing girl be in his hand.

A ribbon of moisture tracked beneath the line of her jaw. Without thinking, Daryl dragged his thumb across the pulse point, slipping from the wetness and pressing deeper into the soft skin of Beth's neck. He couldn't quite understand how it had gotten there.

She gasped then, mouth falling open into a smooth, plush ring. Daryl's eyes involuntarily followed the movement. He felt a deep, uncontrolled hunger roll in the pit of his stomach.

Beth unconsciously wet her lips.

Daryl ripped his hand away from her as if he had been palming away at freshly hot coal. A sudden alertness to his surroundings had made him recognize the horror of the situation he was in.

Beth opened her mouth to say something, but it perished an unspoken death as Daryl clumsily moved over her, pushing her hips down and away from him in the process with fast, awkward hands. He was at the other side of the room, practically absorbed into the cinderblock confines of the cell in only a few seconds flat.

"The hell you think you're doin', little girl?" he drawled deeply. His voice was heavier than usual, harsh, scratching his throat with each word he managed to spit out.

He chalked it up to sleep.

"I'm sorry," Beth said quickly. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. "I didn't mean to scare you."

No one had ever gripped her like that before. Her hips and neck felt hot and Beth had to make a conscious effort not to trace where Daryl's fingers had once touched. She blushed brilliantly at the thought.

"Let me tell you somethin', little girl," Daryl eyed her distrustfully, "I wasn't even close to bein' scared." He was like a startled cat, hair mussed, eyes wild, arms crossed defensively. "I just wasn't expectin' to be molested in my sleep by some kid is all."

Beth thought he looked quite handsome, really.

"You understand me, little girl?"

She nodded, watching him through her lashes. Daryl nodded right back, uncrossing and crossing his arms, once again looking all the part of a child. Any terseness which had been present moments ago had vanished; suddenly replaced by an innocent, inadvertently gentle brushing off of any lingering miscommunication made in the dark.

He seemed nervous to her.

"Good."

...

Rick sighed heavily. The group had been discussing the issue of when to leave, where to go, how to get there, and a whole slew of other topics and Beth could see the stress of the situation weighing down more heavily on Rick the longer it went on.

_His eyes used to dance_, she thought absently.

Be it from happiness or madness, or some emotional outcry that his mouth wouldn't let vocalize. They used to dance. It worried Beth that this syncopation had all but disappeared in Rick. Worried her even more that they would grow that much more vacant whenever he looked at Carl.

And that she didn't blame him.

Beth looked down at Judith, guilty for the path her thoughts had taken. She rocked the growing infant in her arms, smiling small as she pulled and mouthed curiously at a stray lock of golden hair that had fallen loose from Beth's ponytail.

They had been getting nowhere in their discussion. Tension between Maggie and Glenn was beginning to reach and influence other conversations nearby, and Beth could see from Maggie's stance that she was about ready to deck the love of her life square in the face if Glenn said one more word about why staying might not be such a bad idea.

"Could go in groups," a gruff voice stated abruptly from behind Beth, startling her and silencing the rest.

She looked over her shoulder.

Daryl leaned against the cool gray slab of the prison wall, a distance away from the group but only a few feet behind Beth. He took a small step forward, shifting uncomfortably beneath trained eyes.

Unconsciously, Beth turned her body and shifted Judith on her hip, leaning nearer Daryl's form.

His voice softened at the sight of Judith.

"Mark a different course for each set, meet up at the same point. Keep our tracks from convergin'. Maybe make it a little harder for scouts or trackers to follow."

"We'd have to double back, then. Wouldn't that pose more of a risk?" Beth asked, simple and quiet.

Catching Daryl's eyes, Beth fought to contain the blush that threatened color her cheeks.

Daryl's eyes broke away swiftly, darting to the floor, sweeping upward until they were back on her face. He narrowed his lids defensively. Beth could see a flash of a thought cross his features, some nervous energy in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly.

Daryl set his jaw and looked to Rick. "Kid's right."

Beth let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and diverted her attention back to Judith.

"It's gonna be somethin' of a risk havin' to double over old tracks. Not to mention none of these Woodberry folks ain't got a lick of skill between 'em."

"But if we paired every set with people who are skilled, from our own group, people who know how to cover their tracks…" Glenn seemed to be thinking out loud, calculating the possible failure of splitting up. He looked at Maggie, hopeful. Her eyes softened.

"I think it could work," Glenn stated confidently.

"We'd have to be more than careful in those woods, especially if we're separated." The wheels in Rick's head were almost visible how fast they were turning. "Train the young and the old. See fit that everyone has a proper weapon to defend themselves with."

Beth watched Rick intently. It was the first time in a long while that he had looked anything more than exhausted.

The first time since her discussion with Carol she understood what it meant for his eyes to dance.

Rick turned his attention to Daryl, knuckles leaving his face as he stood tall before the group.

"Guess we better start planning."

* * *

**Author's Note: This is my first ever story - which is terrifying! - and it is also completely unbeta'd, so I implore you to pardon any grammatical errors. Formatting has been somewhat difficult for me to grasp (the fickle little bitch), so forgive me for any deletes and re-uploads that you may have experienced. I'm just a little partial (read: hypercritical!) about appearances. Now, with that said: please, enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2

When he off-handedly mentioned the blithering lack of skill exhibited by the Woodbury group during the meeting, Daryl knew it would take something close to a miracle to get them on board with training.

Based on what he'd observed in the few months they'd been here, he figured them a naturally complacent bunch. The old as well as the young were just looking for someone else to take care of 'em the way the Governor did so well and it seemed they found it.

Rick and the others had complied automatically with their basic needs and demands. Even Daryl could understand that they felt some sense of obligation to keep these newcomers happy and their bellies full. But he could also tell there was some other motivation at play than duty alone.

Like a mother with a newborn looking to bond, they wanted to establish trust between broken groups.

They wanted to be accepted.

Unfortunately, Daryl just wasn't the mothering type.

He watched the Woodbury residents from the upper level of the prison block through narrowed eyes, observing benignly as they mulled about the interior of the prison and shared idle chit-chat, eating the breakfast the women had cooked up this morning.

They stayed close to those they found familiar. Not a single one had branched out to interact with the people that had offered them sanctuary; _their new caretakers_, he thought bitterly.

Getting defense-ready in less than a few weeks' time would require commitment and nothing short of tough love. The only way to knock the comfort straight out of their coddled little heads was to get 'em scared, and even then, Daryl knew it wasn't a sure thing.

He felt drained just thinking about the work he was going to put in for these people in the days to come. There was also the additional issue that not every person from the original prison group was yet able to efficiently defend themselves without the use of a gun. Carol, Sasha, Hershel.

Beth.

Daryl stepped away from the railing and down the stairs, moving through the thick air of the prison and out into the scalding Georgia heat.

He was uncomfortable with the thought of having to be the one to train her. The possibility of being stuck teaching the kid how to protect herself would be a second hell Daryl wanted no part of. He was on edge just thinkin' about it.

He'd been trying to keep himself from revisiting what had transpired some nights ago and had done an okay job at it up until now.

It made him sick the way he'd reacted to the kid and even worse knowing he was the one who escalated the situation. Beth Greene was just a girl. He had no place to be thinking otherwise.

Still, Daryl couldn't help but wonder if she was scared of him now. If his grip on her neck had caused her any pain…

Daryl stared harshly into the sun rubbing the palms of his hands together, rough skin suddenly itchy.

…

They'd been training four hours every day for the last five days.

Daryl felt his jaw tighten as he kneeled over one of the young Woodbury refugees – a small, pudgy boy named Gilson, 'bout a year or two younger than Carl. He had cried three times in the last two hours.

"Aright, kid," Daryl said through gritted teeth, offering the boy a hand and lifting him up easily. "I see you 'bout to cry again 'n I ain't got no more patience for that shit, ya understand? Go sit down."

Gilson wiped the tears from his eyes, nodding as he joined a few of the other boys sitting beneath a tree close to the prison perimeter.

_Might as well be pickin' daisies and braidin' each other's hair_, Daryl thought irritably. For the first time all week, he let the stress of the situation course through him.

These kids were so damn close to gutless it seemed no amount of training could assure any level of security from the snap of a walker's jaw.

"I'm callin' it. We try again tomorrow 'n see where you at."

For some reason, he assumed his debt would be a walk in the park compared to working with the old folks; that it would give him some much needed distance from the rest of the prison and allot him some repose as the boys wolfed up whatever training he threw at them. He thought they'd be more adept, more compliant with his demands and more like Carl when he wanted to learn how to shoot.

He wasn't sure what the hell he was thinking.

The kids scattered away, dragging their feet as if the limited exertion they exhibited daily was taking some kind of physical toll on 'em – like their tired bodies were a result of some legitimate reason other than heat exhaustion.

"Keep practicin' them moves," Daryl called out after them dimly.

Even his voice was disinclined to bother sounding anything more than apathetic.

For the first time since Sophia's death, Daryl felt defeated.

He moved toward the shade of the tree the kids had been occupying for most of the afternoon and leaned against the aged trunk. Closing his eyes, Daryl began to drift off, the barely conscious part of his brain trying to think of some knowing way to get the boys moving.

They needed incentive.

He needed sleep.

The sound of heavy breathing accompanied by clicking teeth stirred Daryl and he opened his eyes. Cocking his head and peering around the tree, he felt himself growing annoyed, scowl firmly formed and eyes narrow.

A walker pushed up against the fence and reached for him, its frail arms caught between the chain links of the perimeter. Flesh ripped away and pooled at its elbows like the too-long sleeves of a shirt.

Daryl cracked his neck and took out his knife, approaching the walker without worry.

The walker groaned louder as Daryl moved in, attracting the attention of some nearby ramblers. They moved slowly, weak from the lack of feeding the prison provided. He'd deal with 'em another time. For now, he just wanted some peace and quiet and the walker who'd broken that first moment of rest was his sole concern.

The closer Daryl got, the gentler he moved.

Something about this walker gave him pause.

It pushed closer, whole body flush against the chains of the fence.

Its pale green eyes were wide. Calm. They penetrated deep into his whole person, and Daryl felt himself come to a halt without consent.

His stomach dropped.

Daryl knew it wasn't his brother. He knew he had killed him and that this was just his brain playing tricks.

Nevertheless… it felt like Merle all over again.

Daryl turned away from the walker, propping himself up with his knees, trying to keep himself from throwing up the contents of breakfast.

_This ain't Merle. Stop bein' such a pussy. He's dead. _

_You killed him._

A deep, lonely crack resonated from a fair distance at his back.

The walker dropped against the fence with unexpected grace. Its stiff arms locked between the links, keeping its body from slumping to the dirt and an immediate sense of relief washed over Daryl.

Breathing hard, Daryl took a small step forward, inspecting the walker. Hoisted skyward, it almost looked like it was tryin' to fly.

A single bullet split clean through the narrow space between two green eyes.

…

Beth loves her big sister with all her heart.

She knew it first when she was just a small girl and their daddy let Maggie invite all her girlfriends over for a slumber party. Maggie was twelve, Beth five. She remembers when it happened because Maggie had been telling her all week that she didn't want Beth to be intruding or embarrassing her, and that her friends didn't want to be hangin' round with a baby all night anyway.

Beth nodded her understanding each time, and would wait 'til after dinner to make up a blanketed area in her closet and let hot tears spill down her pale face.

She never did like to let anyone see her cry.

The evening of the party, Maggie searched the house for her little sister until she found her, all alone and sniffling quietly in that darkened space. Maggie stayed with Beth all night – ignoring the laughter of her friends through the old farmhouse's walls – 'til they both fell asleep.

There wasn't a thing anyone could say about Maggie that would change Beth's love for her kin; that she wouldn't defend until her dying breath.

Other than her daddy, Maggie was all she had left to live for and Maggie was their rock. She knew that the love she had for her big sister was reciprocated beyond a doubt, no questions asked.

"Like I said before, you ain't doin' it right!"

But right now, Maggie was being one helluva bitch.

"Honestly, are you lookin' to get yourself killed? Do you wanna die? 'Cause it's about a surefire guarantee with the sloppy moves you've been throwin' at me all week."

Beth gripped the hilt of the knife in her hand tightly, uncomfortable trying to stab at her sister despite being provoked. She swiped the knife as she was instructed and Maggie caught her elbow, twisting it behind her back and pushing her forward.

Beth let out a small cry. "Maggie, you're hurtin' me!"

"Yeah? Well, death is probably gonna hurt you, Beth."

Beth felt her face grow hot. The whole week had been goading and belittling, and Beth could see the power and amusement going to her sister's head. Maggie released her little sister's elbow and crossed her arms.

"This time, I won't move 'n we'll see how you do, okay?" Maggie said in a softer voice.

"Fine," Beth growled.

Readying for her strike, Beth realized the intent that filled her stomach like a load of bricks. She wanted to prove Maggie wrong, to strike with strength which would surprise them all. She wanted to hurt her sister.

Beth's grip on her weapon loosened and the knife fell to the ground.

In the back of her mind, she could hear Maggie scolding her fiercely. Something vacant and obvious about how being a clumsy daydreamer was gonna get her killed – that there was no way she was going to be able to defend herself if she _couldn't even_ hold her damned knife.

For the first time since the world turned to dark, Beth realized she was capable of much more than she had ever known.

…

Being in her sister's charge for the last couple of days was an eye-opening experience for Beth. For as long as she could remember, she'd always looked up to Maggie in a certain way, seeing her as a fair and just person.

She knew her inexperience in combat had to be frustrating, but Beth had fancied herself something of a fast learner when given the chance. Never would she have expected for Maggie to be so hard on her.

They'd decided to end the lesson early, and Beth couldn't remember a time she had been more grateful to get away from her sister. It took more than a few bumps and bruises for Beth to complain, but that wasn't what was really bothering her.

Intentionally wishing to cause harm to another human being, and the reality that it will likely come to that in the very near future, had never truly struck Beth before this afternoon. Even with walkers, she had always harbored an odd sense of sympathy for the poor creatures.

They didn't know any better.

Training to kill other human beings… it was yet another set of actions to be justified. What was the point of fighting to stay alive if all they were going to do was kill one another?

Beth took a long pull of water from her bottle and sat herself on the stairs of the watch tower.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

"You okay?" a voice asked abruptly behind her.

Beth turned, surprised to see Carl as he descended the stairs of the watch tower and leaned on the railing at her side.

"Yeah… just tired and sore from trainin', I guess." Beth replied simply, surprised that Carl was being so cordial.

They hadn't been seeing much of one another lately, his temper getting more and more volatile by the day. She figured he just needed his space.

Beth stood and offered Carl her water bottle, thinking it as some kind of peace treaty between two friends. He took it slowly from her and drank a sip.

She counted it as a blessing, and smiled a little. "You done with your shift?"

Carl shrugged. "Figure I have more important things to do than watch a stupid fence all day. Sasha can handle it."

The corners of Carl's mouth curled and Beth yanked the bottle from his hand harshly. She wanted to smack him. Blessing be damned.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you, Carl."

Carl's grin faltered momentarily as Beth brushed past him and up the stairs of the watch tower.

Beth slammed the door to the watch tower childishly, muttering under her breath. She hated what he was becoming. Every blink and false moment of decency was a useless plea for compassion that he wouldn't accept.

She turned to see Sasha sitting at the lookout, eyebrows raised and an amused half-smile stretched across her lips.

"Some entrance you got there." Sasha said blithely, teasing. "You looking for a moment of privacy, or takin' up dramatics for the stage?"

"No," Beth smiled, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. "It's just…" She muttered incoherently, unable to think of the words to convey her disappointment in the young man she once believed to be her close friend. Sasha probably wouldn't be able to understand how drastically he had changed, how cold his heart has become, or how deeply sorrowful Beth felt at seeing it take place.

So Beth went with what she could.

"Carl."

That one word would have to do.

Sasha laughed, gently. "_No_! Our sweet Carl? Who would have thought?"

Beth smiled at the sarcastic lilt of Sasha's words. The two of them had never really been close before – just passersby in the prison and occasional cooking partners day or night. Still, Beth held Sasha in high regard and had a feeling Sasha enjoyed her company just fine as well.

Beth leaned against the open window of the watch tower. She eyed Sasha's rifle, jealous that Sasha was so adept with that particular weapon. Sleek and clean.

"You see anything suspicious up here?" Beth inquired, making an effort to fill the silence.

"Not really. Just a couple of walkers here and there. Nothin' to worry about." Sasha stretched her arms behind her head. "Yet, anyway."

The two females shared a look.

Sasha had a guilty glint in her eye; something Beth suspected had to do with their cooperating with the Governor all that time ago.

"You didn't know he was bad," Beth stated matter-of-factly, trying to let Sasha in on the point that she didn't dislike her for doing what she once believed was right. "We all know that. And if anyone ought to feel bad about what happened, it's us. We shouldn't have turned you away."

Sasha looked the young blonde in the eye, grateful for some form of acceptance and understanding.

"Thank you, Beth."

Beth nodded. Little more was said as they observed the others below, training away. They looked tired and small from the watch tower, like little ants working away for their colony.

Rick and Michonne had been working with a few of the older Woodbury groups on their skills and appeared to be making some headway. _At least someone's makin' progress_, Beth's mind chided.

"What is he doing?" Sasha asked quietly, startling Beth.

Sasha raised a pair of binoculars to her eyes. Beth searched in the direction she was looking. She couldn't see much – just two blurred figures standing at the fence line.

"Who is it?" Beth questioned.

"Can't see much," Sasha said, shaking her head. She absently moved the sniper rifle to Beth, "You take a look."

Beth was surprised to have Sasha trust her enough with the rifle. She'd never been one for firearms… or any kind of weapon, really. Still, something about this particular gun sang out to her. She liked the feel of it in her hands.

Beth maneuvered the sniper gently and adjusted her line of vision through the scope.

Her sight landed on the back of the man at the fence.

Faded wings blurred the scope and she knew without any second thought. Daryl. Beth focused again on Daryl's rigid form and moved the rifle up to see what it was he was staring at.

"What is it? Should I be going for Rick?" Sasha asked quickly, voice even, trying to sound confident.

"No," Beth replied, soft and quiet. She watched in fascination as Daryl did nothing, moved not a millimeter in the scope of her vision. "It's Daryl. He's just… lookin' at a walker."

Sasha sighed, relieved. "What d'you think he's doing?"

"I don't know," Beth whispered.

He seemed frozen in the moment. A light breeze caused his hair to blow and Beth couldn't take her eyes away from him. She adjusted the weapon once more and took a hard look at the walker.

Daryl turned his whole body to the side and curled over his knees.

Beth's mouth went dry. He looked like he was having a panic attack.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Beth moved the weapon to take aim and had her finger on the trigger of the rifle, the single crack of the bullet moving through the firearm falling on her all but deaf ears.

The sight of that same bullet penetrating the walker's skull was the only indication of what she had just done.

…

Fatigue rolled over his shoulders and seeped into his bones before he could muster the energy to fight it off.

He needed to lie down.

Looking into the eyes of that walker, into the turned eyes of Merle once more… Daryl felt unstable.

Something in his brain had switched off, rendered him unable to go through with killin' the thing. Freezin' up like that wasn't in his nature – every part of him knew it then and sure as hell knows it now.

A part of Daryl was heated that he hadn't been the one to pierce that particular demon straight between the eyes – a final farewell to the burden that was Merle…

But the quiet part of him, the role of little brother he had sought to rid himself of since he was only ten years old? He was grateful to whoever had spared him from having to face it once more.

As he moved down the catwalk of the upper cell block, Daryl paused at Beth and Lil' Asskicker's cell, beckoned by the stillness of the air.

The bottom bunk was unmade.

Daryl moved into the space without thought, eyes fixed harshly, glaring down at the bed. He mildly ran his fingers through his hair, his lips a thin straight line as he scrutinized the tangled mesh of blankets and pillows. A veiled, trifling part of his mind chided him for his actions.

_Listen now, little brother, 'n remember 'cause it's real important… _

His left hand came forward, fingers splayed and hovering just above the soft pile of Beth's bed. He burned to push it down, to flatten it out against the mattress and disappear into the warm, perfumed cushions until his need for sleep was gratified; until the simple act of breathing no longer weighed so heavily on his chest.

Abruptly, Daryl's mind clouded with the image of Beth's smooth, parted lips.

… _ya never return to tha scene of tha crime_.

He instantly drew back his hand and moved out of the cell into the open hall, severely reigning in his thoughts. He harshly scraped his left hand across the scratchy stubble along his mouth and jaw, mind racing, attempting to cut out the memory of pink lips and heated gasp.

He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

Daryl's eyes darted behind him uneasily, listening intently as voices and accompanying footsteps echoed against the walls of the prison.

He wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings, trying to make certain that his retreat went unseen when a soft body collided flush against his, hand automatically gripping the culprits elbow as delicate ivory fingers caught in the frayed hem of his tee.

The soft touch of Beth's blonde hair against his jaw put his senses on high alert. The tips of her fingers brushed absently against a strip of exposed skin at his hip.

His grip on her elbow tightened for an instant.

"Daryl?" Beth breathed.

* * *

**Author's Note: First things first – Comic Con Season 4 Trailer. Let me just say, I'm more than a little bit joyous over that two second scene of Beth/Daryl magic. Here's to hoping, right?**

**Secondly, this has taken me way too long to update and for that I am sincerely apologetic. Also, for as long as I've been writing and editing this chapter, I'm still not totally jazzed with the end result. As you can see, dialogue escapes me. That said, I'll try to be better at regular updates. Oh, and please, feel free to provide constructive criticism in any reviews you might leave. Thank you to those already following and to those who have left reviews. I truly, truly appreciate it.**


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